


Fractured Society

by almostannette



Series: Beau de Jour AU [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Imprisonment, M/M, Mind Games, Politics, Psychological Torture, mentions of torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21697546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostannette/pseuds/almostannette
Summary: Ever since he'd fled from New York City with Mr. Grindelwald, Credence had seen many wondrous things. Mr. Grindelwald could do things with a wand Credence had never seen another wizard do, and used magic in ways that seemed both dangerous and exciting. In short, Credence thought he was prepared for anything.'Anything', however, didn't seem to include seeing Percival Graves - the real one, not Mr. Grindelwald under the influence of Polyjuice Potion - in the flesh for the first time.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Gellert Grindelwald, Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves, Credence Barebone/Percival Graves | Gellert Grindelwald
Series: Beau de Jour AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563994
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Fractured Society

**Author's Note:**

> I really loved the Beau de Jour fic and Credence's character in that fic, which is why I couldn't help myself and write a little sequel in which he gets to meet the original Percival Graves.

"I told you, Credence, you’ve never met the real Mr. Graves," Grindelwald said. The words sounded like they were coming from far away. Graves had to fight for everything these days, even consciousness, so fighting to understand the words his tormentor spoke to one of his associates was a given. Maybe this time, Grindelwald felt safe enough to let something slip, the tiniest detail could be of use... who was he trying to fool? Grindelwald had not made a mistake ever since he'd captured Graves, which was... with a start, he realized that he'd lost count of the time Grindelwald was holding him captive.

"Mr. Graves?" a voice asked. It was not Grindelwald's voice, no, it belonged to someone much younger, someone who sounded like they'd been born and raised in New York City.

With an immense effort, Percival Graves opened his eyes. The dim light in his prison cell illuminated the figures of Grindelwald and another man Graves had never seen before. In another life, Graves would have said the young man at Grindelwald's side looked handsome, ravishing even. He was tall and willowy, and his pale skin contrasted sharply with his pitch-black hair. Was he one of Grindelwald's prisoners as well? But no, that didn't make sense. Grindelwald had proven time and time again that he didn't much care for the health and well-being of his prisoners, and the young man at his side was well-groomed and looked like he got decent meals. He did not look like Graves, whose clothes were nothing more than rags these days and whose dignity had been stripped away from him so thoroughly that he felt more like a beast than a man.

"Who are you?" Graves rasped, voice hoarse from not being used.

"Shall I leave you to get acquainted, Credence?" Grindelwald said, laying an arm around the other man's - Credence's - slim hip.

"That would be wonderful," Credence said, smiling at Grindelwald so sweetly that it made Graves feel sick.

"Anything for you," Grindelwald replied, before kissing Credence possessively for just a second right in front of Graves. He released the boy and disapparated with a loud crack.

Credence might not be Grindelwald's prisoner, but he sure was Grindelwald's pet and it looked like that boy had the maniac wrapped around his little finger. Maybe his chance had finally come - maybe Credence was the weak point Graves had been looking for. Maybe that boy would be Grindelwald's downfall in the end.

"Hello, Mr. Graves," Credence said, sat down on the floor, opposite the wall where Graves was chained up, and smiled at Graves the same way he'd smiled at Grindelwald.

Even though he knew that Credence was an associate of Grindelwald's, and therefore an enemy by default, Graves couldn't help but think that if he'd met Credence under different circumstances, before his imprisonment... he wouldn't have been able to resist that smile. Credence looked lovely, but unfortunately, the young man was all too aware of it. Graves, who had weaponized his good looks often enough, knew better than to trust anything he said.

* * *

Ever since he'd fled from New York City with Mr. Grindelwald, Credence had seen many wondrous things. Mr. Grindelwald could do things with a wand Credence had never seen another wizard do, and used magic in ways that seemed both dangerous and exciting. In short, Credence thought he was prepared for anything.

'Anything', however, didn't seem to include seeing Percival Graves - the real one, not Mr. Grindelwald under the influence of Polyjuice Potion - in the flesh for the first time.

"Who are you?" Mr. Graves rasped and looked at Credence with bleary, bloodshot eyes. "What sort of trap is this?"

"This is not a trap. I simply asked Gellert to see you," Credence said softly.

He crouched down on the floor opposite the wall Mr. Graves was chained to. At the moment, the chains were unnecessary, Mr. Graves looked far too weak to pose any immediate danger to him. And even if he'd tried to attack him... Credence might not be a fully trained wizard yet, but he had complete control over his Obscurus, so he was perfectly able to defend himself.

In the dim light of the prison cell, Mr. Graves looked nothing like the refined, elegant man Credence had gotten to know in New York City. It had been Gellert in disguise, he knew, but he'd still expected... he didn't know what he'd expected. Certainly not the all-too-obvious traces the imprisonment had left on Mr. Graves' body. His hair had gone completely gray, his cheeks were sunken from malnutrition, and his skin was sickly pale - of course it was, Mr. Graves hadn't seen the sun in months.

"Who are you?" Mr. Graves asked again. "I haven't..."

Hearing his voice again after so many months, even if it was just a weak echo of earlier times, sent shivers down Credence's spine. He wasn't quite sure if he was excited or frightened.

"Hush," Credence said. "Don't speak, save your strength." He sorted through the various potions and ointments he'd brought with him. Gellert had advised him that 'Percy' needed to be nursed back to health before Credence could hope to ‘play’ with him. Credence selected a flask containing a teal-colored potion. "Here, drink this." He held the potion to Mr. Graves' lips. "It's Invigoration Draught."

Mr. Graves met Credence's eyes for just a second. "Is it?" he whispered.

"It is," Credence soothed him and ran a hand through Mr. Graves' hair. It had grown long during his imprisonment, and was matted and oily, far from the carefully slicked-back style which he'd sported back in New York City, the style Credence had liked to mess up during their love-making. "I'm here to help you," Credence said. "Trust me and drink this."

To his surprise, Mr. Graves' lips twitched into something that might have been a smile, under different conditions. "I could never resist the pretty boys," he mumbled.

Credence frowned, slightly puzzled before he remembered that Gellert had told him - or rather,  _ shown _ him how he’d managed to incapacitate Mr. Graves in the first place. A temporary de-aging potion and a few suggestive glances into Mr. Graves’ direction at a nightclub had been enough to convince him to apparate Gellert into his apartment, through all the security wards. After that, Gellert had had an easy job of it, stunning Mr. Graves and placing him in the mobile prison cell, which he carried around in a heavily guarded suitcase. “It’s an Undetectable Extension Charm,” Gellert had explained when he’d shown Credence where he kept Mr. Graves. “The charms need to be reinforced regularly, so the whole room doesn’t collapse one day, but maintenance is a lot cheaper than, say, keeping him in an actual prison cell.”

He’d also shown Credence how he’d looked like when he’d tricked Mr. Graves into trusting him. Not used to being with a partner his own age, Credence had been momentarily thrown off, but he’d quickly learned to enjoy it. It was probably prudent not to ask Gellert to take that potion too often since he might get offended, but the few times he’d managed to talk him into it had been memorable, to say the least.

He couldn’t fault Mr. Graves for falling for Gellert's charms - Credence had fallen for them, too. Quickly, he shook his head to clear his thoughts. Right now, he had other priorities.

“Drink this,” he repeated.

Finally, Mr. Graves opened his mouth and drank the potion from the flask Credence held up to his lips. While he drank, Mr. Graves closed his eyes and his expression softened. He still looked unwell, but not quite as sick and weakened as before.

“How do you feel?” Credence asked when Mr. Graves had finished the potion. He couldn’t resist reaching out and cupping Mr. Graves’s cheek.

“Better than I’ve felt in months,” Mr. Graves replied without opening his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean much.”

“Don’t worry,” Credence said softly. “I’ll fix you.”

Mr. Graves coughed.

Credence flinched, alarmed, worrying he’d given him the wrong potion when he realized that this was Mr. Graves’ version of a laugh. It didn’t sound much like a laugh at all, if he was being honest, but he supposed Mr. Graves was out of practice. 

“Won’t you get in trouble with  _ him _ if you help me?”

“You mean Gellert?” Credence selected a small bottle labeled ‘Dittany’ and gently started applying the ointment to the wounds on Mr. Graves’ torso and legs. “No, he won’t get angry with me. He likes… I’m useful to him.”

Now Mr. Graves opened his eyes and looked at Credence with so much raw sincerity in his gaze that he had to avert his eyes after just a second. “‘Useful’,” he repeated. “For now. What is he going to do with you when you’re not useful anymore?”

Credence suppressed a laugh. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, applying Dittany to a particularly nasty gash on the side of Mr. Graves’ torso. “That’s not going to happen for a long time.”

“Are you sure about that?” Mr. Graves said, wincing a little when the Dittany started knitting his wounds back together. “You’re still young, yes, but good looks can be gone rather quickly… just look at me.”

This time, Credence didn’t suppress his reaction and openly scoffed at Mr. Graves’ words. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear this,” he muttered, putting the Dittany back into the basket he’d brought. “Don’t make the mistake of assuming I’m only useful to Gellert because of my pretty face. I have something he wants much more than a willing body to warm his bed at night.”

Mr. Graves flinched, even though Credence hadn’t even touched him, nor had he used the Obscurus on him. Even among Gellert’s supporters, most were afraid of the Obscurus and nearly everyone was uncomfortable when Credence demonstrated his abilities at Gellert’s behest. The only one who was truly delighted with the Obscurus was Gellert.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean it,” Mr. Graves sputtered, in the same panicked way Credence recognized from himself, when he’d been much younger, trying to deny he’d made a mistake so Ma wouldn’t punish him. It had never worked.

“Of course you meant it,” Credence said matter-of-factly. “It doesn’t take a Legilimens to see that. I won’t be angry with you, simply because you’re ignorant of some of the, uh, non-physical aspects of my relationship with Gellert.”

“‘Non-physical aspects’,” Mr. Graves repeated. “Why don’t you say the romantic aspects?”

Credence squared his shoulders and swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I’m not sure what misconceptions you have about me, but if you thought that I led a happy life before I met Gellert, then you would be wrong. There was never any time for romance, nor is there time for it now. I know that Gellert cares for me, and I am grateful for everything he’s done for me, but he’s not in love with me, nor I with him… well, not that I know what it would even feel like.”

He raised his wand and pointed it to Mr. Graves’ left hand. “ _ Episkey _ ,” he said and Mr. Graves groaned when the two broken fingers on his left hand were healed by the spell. Credence repeated the incantation, this time healing Mr. Graves’ cracked ribs.

“Thank you,” Mr. Graves said. “I almost forgot what it feels like to not be in so much pain all the time.” He squinted at the wand made from ebony in Credence’s hand. “That’s mine,” he whispered. “Why are you using my wand?”

“Gellert gave it to me and it has been working fine,” Credence said defensively. “I didn’t know it belonged to you.”

Mr. Graves shook his head. “I was just… I’m surprised it works for you. When I bought it, Shikoba Wolfe - the wandmaker I bought it from - well, they said it wouldn’t take kindly to a master other than me. ‘Ebony wands like to be wielded by people with the courage to be themselves,’ they said.”

“Do you think you’re the only one with the courage to be yourself?” Credence asked, miffed. “It must have been so difficult for you, being a member of the Twelve and heir to an old pureblood nameline.”

“Look where it got me,” Mr. Graves muttered. “Beaten, broken and chained up.” He clenched his jaw and met Credence’s eyes. “Grindelwald has offered to set me free if I joined his ranks, but I refused every single one of his offers. I’m not just living off the glory of past family members. When I became an Auror, I swore to defend the constitution and MACUSA with my life, if necessary, and that’s what I intend to do.”

Credence cast multiple cleaning charms on Mr. Graves, washing off the sweat, grime, and dirt which had built up over the course of his imprisonment. “And you think MACUSA is always right?” he asked.

“It’s my job is to enforce the law, not to question it.”

“Was,” Credence corrected him, moving closer to Mr. Graves and casting a shaving charm to get rid of the tangled beard and matted hair, making him look more and more like the man he’d thought he’d gotten to know back in New York City. “It  _ was  _ your job. And when you say you’re not supposed to question the law… I would expect to hear that out of the mouth of some lowly official, not the former Director of Magical Security himself.”

Mr. Graves coughed. “Grindelwald has gotten to you,” he rasped once he’d recovered.

“He has,” Credence admitted freely. “Although I don’t approve of the way he’s been treating you.”

“Grindelwald hasn’t been the one who’s been torturing me,” Mr. Graves said. “He only comes down here for interrogations, or to get a lock of my hair for Polyjuice Potion. The dirty work, he left that to his lackeys.”

Credence furrowed his brows. “Which ones?”

“I don’t really know their names,” Mr. Graves said. “Except for one. Ewan Abernathy, Do you know him? He used to work at MACUSA, he helped Grindelwald infiltrate MACUSA and replace me. He’s… apparently, he decided to work out his frustrations by using me as his punching bag.

“Mr. Abernathy?” Credence repeated incredulously. The bootlicking, brownnosing sycophant who always flinched and shivered whenever Credence demonstrated his control over the Obscurus? “I’ll have a word with him.”

“I appreciate that, but you… you shouldn’t endanger yourself by going against Grindelwald’s followers.”

“Trust me, Mr. Graves, when I say that I am more than capable of defending myself against Mr. Abernathy, and I don’t even need a wand to do so. If anything, Mr. Abernathy is more afraid of me than of Gellert. He thinks I’m unhinged and dangerous.”

“Are you?”

Credence shrugged, but didn’t meet Mr. Graves’ gaze when he opened his mouth to reply: “According to MACUSA’s definition, yes, I suppose I am. Gellert says I’m gifted, special, and just because the world doesn’t want to understand my powers, doesn’t mean I should hide away or try to be different. Suppressing my powers is exactly what led me into this mess, embracing them might help me improve my life.” He reached for another potion he’d brought with him; this one was bright yellow, almost like liquid sunlight.

He uncorked the flask and held it to Mr. Graves’ lips. “Here, drink this, too. It’s a nutrient potion. You don’t look like you’ve had much to eat these past few months.”

Dutifully, Mr. Graves drank. A bit of color had returned to his cheeks and his breathing didn’t sound as rattled as it had when Credence had first entered the prison cell. Due to the cleaning charms, he also didn’t smell like a mixture of sweat and old blood anymore.

In the dim light of the cell, he could almost pretend… no, this Mr. Graves was nothing like the man he’d thought he’d gotten to know in New York City. Their roles were irrevocably reversed; now Mr. Graves was the captive and Credence was in the position to dole out punishments or give gifts however he pleased. He couldn’t say why, but that thought depressed him.

Mr. Graves finished the nutrient potion and breathed a sigh of relief. “I still don’t know why you’re doing this for me, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Credence said, careful not to utter a single word about the purpose of his visit.

“Credence… that’s your name, right? Can I ask you a question?” Mr. Graves continued without waiting for Credence to give him permission. Old habits die hard, Credence thought. “What are those powers of yours? Why is Mr. Abernathy afraid of you? You’ve been nothing but civil to me so far and, pardon me for saying so, you don’t seem very intimidating to me. Is it your close connection to Grindelwald?”

“No,” Credence said.

He focused on the swirling magical power inside of him, the potentially destructive power of the Obscurus and freed it just a little bit, enough to come to manifest physically, but not enough to lose his corporeal form. His eyes had to be glowing white at this point and his the contours of his body were starting to blur.

“Those are my powers. I’m an Obscurial, you see? The only adult Obscurial in recorded history, and the only one to have full control of my Obscurus.”

He pulled the Obscurus back when he saw how Mr. Graves instinctively pressed his back tightly against the wall, trying to get away from the monstrosity before him. Of course, though, there was no way to escape.

“Now you know why Mr. Abernathy is so afraid of me, and why Gellert sees me as something much more than a bed warmer.”

Mr. Graves was breathing heavily and he was staring at Credence, eyes wide open, as though he was expecting him to attack him any second. “You’re his weapon,” he whispered, not speaking to Credence, but talking to himself. “He… he’s manipulating you into thinking that he’s the only one who could offer you freedom and acceptance.”

“I don’t belong to Gellert,” Credence corrected him. “And he’s not manipulating me. You used to work for MACUSA. Tell me honestly, what would they have done to me if they’d found out I was an Obscurial?”

Mr. Graves didn’t answer. He didn’t have to - Credence already knew the answer to his own question.

“MACUSA law requires that any magical creature, beast or any other non-human being which threatens the exposure of the magical community be apprehended at all costs and put down, if necessary. Don’t you see that I don’t have a choice?”

“But you’re not a threat,” Mr. Graves argued. “If you could only demonstrate that you have control of your powers, that you can use them responsibly and never to harm others, then I don’t see any reason why MACUSA wouldn’t allow you to pursue some guided training… maybe a check-up every few weeks to see how you are doing… you wouldn’t even get in trouble for working for Grindelwald, he lured you in with promises, but if you just acknowledged that you were wrong and misguided, then I… if you helped me, then I could help you in turn.”

Credence pointed his wand at Mr. Graves’ face. “You don’t really believe that, do you? If you did, I should be horrified that MACUSA chose to make such a naive man their Director of Magical Security. The law doesn’t see me as human. MACUSA would only see me as a threat, a freak, something that doesn’t fit into their society, and believe me when I say that I’ve experienced how MACUSA treats people they label as ‘abominations’.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Graves, for the longest time, MACUSA thought I was a Squib and treated me as such.”

Mr. Graves winced. “I'm sorry to hear that,” he said. “I… where were you? In one of the workhouses or…?”

“Are you familiar with the name Gnarlak?” Credence asked.

“I never visited his establishment, but I was aware of his activities.”

“Gellert did not have any such qualms about ‘visiting his establishment’, believe me.” Credence shrugged. “I'm not complaining, because I wouldn't have met him otherwise, but he might have been ruining your reputation in the process. Terrible scandal, you know? ‘Director of Magical Security elopes with squib whore.’”

“Made worse by the fact that it wasn’t the Director of Magical Security, but the world’s most wanted terrorist masquerading as him,” Mr. Graves corrected him.

“A terrorist?” Credence asked. “Is that what you think Gellert is?” He looked for the last vial of potion he’d brought, which was a blood-replenishing potion. Originally, he hadn’t been quite sure if he’d need to use it, but decided he’d give it to Mr. Graves anyway. Who knew what sort of injuries Gellert’s lackeys had inflicted on him, after all.

“What would you call him, if not a terrorist? A leader? An aspiring dictator?”

“History will be written by the victors,” Credence replied, quoting something Gellert had told him a few days ago. “You may call him a terrorist, or a dictator, but to me, he’s a revolutionary. How else do you think change is going to happen? How many died in the Salem witch trials? Not even twenty people. And still, to this day, we’re not allowed to marry No-Majs, we’re not allowed to befriend them or even interact with them. No-Maj-born children are forced to leave their families when they get their Ilvermorny letter, and have to watch their parents and their siblings be obliviated. Is that really the best solution we could think of? And any child of magical parents, who dares to be born without magical powers, they’re a shameful secret, rejected by their families and, if they’re particularly unlucky, they end up being sold into slavery. What sort of life do you think I led before Gellert liberated me and showed me how to embrace my powers? Society turned me into a plaything for wealthy wizards with peculiar tastes.”

Mr. Graves didn’t reply for a long time. He tried to reach out to Credence, but his hands caught on the shackles. “I’m sorry that this happened to you,” he said. “I have to admit that the system is not perfect, but you need to realize that what Grindelwald wants… that’s just not possible. If sustainable change is to happen, then it needs to happen slowly, step-by-step. You can’t just overthrow a system with no idea how to replace it. You say that wizards and No-Majs living together would be for the greater good, but can you really guarantee that the No-Majs wouldn’t organize, take advantage of their strength in numbers and fight against us. People are afraid of what they don’t understand, Credence.”

Credence snorted. “You think I don’t know that? You think I didn’t  _ experience _ people being afraid of me for what I am, for what I can do?”

“Credence, why are you here?” Mr. Graves asked. “Why did you heal me? Why are you doing all this for me? You’re not going to release me, are you?”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Mr. Graves,” Credence said. “I wanted to… I… this is going to sound stupid, but I thought that if I could just get to know you… I hoped that things might be like before.”

“Before? We don’t know each other,” he said. “Or do you mean…?”

Credence felt the blood rush into his cheeks. “I know that it was Gellert, believe me, I know that.” He looked down into his lap, biting his lips. “But I also know what it feels like to be imprisoned, to suffer and… when I was younger, sometimes, I wanted people to help me, to notice me, to make the pain go away for just a little while. It was a stupid idea from the get-go. Forgive me.”

“No,” Mr. Graves said in a soothing voice that reminded him so much of how Gellert had used to talk to him when he’d pretended to be Mr. Graves that Credence’s heart hurt a little. “No, it was not stupid at all. In fact, I’m grateful that you’ve decided to come down here. I haven’t felt this well in months.”

Credence didn’t reply, but smiled awkwardly at Mr. Graves. “There is a price for my kindness, Mr. Graves,” he said.

Mr. Graves closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, laughing softly. “Of course,” he said. “There is always a price. Name it. I just don’t know if I can pay it.”

Credence leaned in, until he was close enough to whisper into Mr. Graves’ ear. “Gellert trusts me, probably more than he trusts his followers. I can help you break out of this prison, if you can guarantee that you will do everything in your power so MACUSA stops hunting me.”

Graves wet his chapped lips. “I can’t guarantee that, Credence,” he said. “As you said, you’re a threat for the safety of the wizarding community, especially considering your connection to Grindelwald. I just… maybe if you considered working for MACUSA, become a double agent… ”

Credence snorted. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to hide anything from Gellert? Becoming a double agent would be a death sentence.” The boy shook his head, packing up his things. He cupped Mr. Graves’ cheek for a second, rubbing this thumb over the cheekbone. “I’m sorry,” Credence said. “If you can’t help me, then I can’t help you. It was a stupid idea anyway. I thought you were different but… you’re not.”

Mr. Graves stared at him, incredulous, fear creeping into his features. Credence wondered if he knew that he looked a little like Mr. Abernathy anytime Credence decided to give him a little taste of what the Obscurus could do, even if he just made his eyes glow white for just a second. “No,” he rasped. “Please, I’m sorry, I can… I’ll… ”

Credence stood up and shook his head. “No, Mr. Graves.  _ I’m _ sorry. I should have known better than to think anyone who works for MACUSA wouldn’t want to harm me.”

“No!” Graves struggled against his chains, trying to touch Credence, but Credence kept himself firmly out of reach. “Please, don’t go! I can help you, I can give you… I could… if you free me, I promise, I’ll do anything you want, you won’t be in any danger, you won’t… please, don’t go just yet.”

Credence tilted his head. He’d never been that desperate. It was strange to think that Mr. Graves was desperate for Credence to help him. Credence, who Mr. Graves would have thought of as a Squib, as something akin to an animal if he’d met him back in New York, while he was working for Gnarlak.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to tell you,” Credence said softly. “Gellert has promised me the world, in the most literal sense of the word, too. All you can give me is the possibility of MACUSA not hunting me anymore. You even admitted it yourself, you’re not sure whether you could even convince MACUSA to pardon me if I were to help you. You’re desperate, that’s why you’re lying. Believe me, I know the feeling all too well. But, Mr. Graves, there’s something you need to understand - sometimes, you can beg, plead, and cry all you want, but it’s not going to help you in any way. I’m sorry. There’s nothing I can do for you. Good luck.”

With that, Credence disapparated, Mr. Graves’ pleas still ringing in his ears.

* * *

When Gellert had spoken of Credence ‘playing’ with Percival Graves, he’d probably thought Credence would use the prisoner for sex.

In  _ that  _ regard, Credence was fully satisfied. However, Gellert had showed him ways to play with people that didn’t involve their bodies…

He wanted to find out how often he could make the former Director of Magical Security, the President’s right-hand man, and a member of the Twelve beg like a child, like Credence had begged first Ma and then Gnarlak.

Mind games, Credence decided, were far more interesting than anything he could possibly do with Percival Graves’ body.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked the fic, please consider leaving a comment and/or kudos <3


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